Someone to Get Drunk With
by Kindre Turnany
Summary: Puck and Kurt, it turns out, have two things in common: a fierce desire to be drunk and an unrequited love. It's not a lot, but it's enough. Rated for language and underage drinking, which I'm totally worried I need to say I don't condone, btw.


This was inspired by two things that have been bugging me. First: we never found out what happened after Kurt puked on Emma's shoes; we just assume he stopped drinking or something. Second: There are way too many Kurt/Puck slashfics in the world (as determined by my bias to Kurt/Finn ones), so I wrote them a friendship fic to balance things out.

I will give you a virtual hug if you review. But I won't remember saying this, so you have to ask for one. In a review. ;)

You know who doesn't own Glee? Me.

**Someone to Get Drunk With**

Kurt tried to ignore the taste. It sucked. He'd honestly gotten better from April Rhodes—and she'd given him little better than rubbing alcohol. Still, it was free, and he doubted Puck would cut him off for a while yet. The jock had obviously been looking for someone to get drunk with for a while now.

"I even told her I love her. I mean, that's what chicks want isn't it?" Puck spoke practically in Kurt's ear from where he lounged beside the smaller boy on the couch.

"At least you _can_ say it. I'm fairly certain Finn would explode if I ever tried." Kurt tried to take a drink, but his beer was empty.

"You're such a drunk, Hummel. Want another?" Puck laughed.

Kurt nodded. "The Fat Tire this time. I think you pissed in this one." He glared at the now empty bottle for a moment before dropping it to the floor with the others. "Do we keep these here instead of the trash for a reason?" He called to Puck across the back of the sofa. "Because it's not sanitary to leave garbage lying around."

"A drunkard _and_ my mom, apparently. Chill out, man. We'll clean up later." He handed over a fresh beer and plopped back down beside Kurt.

As if they hadn't been interrupted by lack of drink, Kurt picked up where the boys' main conversation of the night had left off. "Quinn wants more from you than words. I think you've screwed up too much for her to trust you easily. And girls don't want to be with guys who they can't trust."

"Hey, everyone loves a bad boy!"

"To fool around with, maybe. Quinn's not a naughty little girl anymore though. She wants a responsible man person." Kurt laughed and choked on his Fat Tire. "Man person? I'm more wasted than I thought."

Puck shrugged. "I've seen worse. Seen _you_ worse. And while we're dishing out advice, all Finn wants is boobs. Maybe you could get some?"

Kurt punched the jock's shoulder. "Hell no. And he'd want me rid of my dick too."

"Then you choose your manhood over Finn?"

"I am offended you have to ask. If I wanted to be a girl, I'd have told everyone to call me Katrina while I wear dresses to school by now."

Puck leered. "Oh, Katrina, you have such lovely eyes!" He threw back his head and laughed before continuing. "You've thought on the name?"

Kurt shrugged then shook his head. "It starts with a K. Never thought about it before, but I suppose it's a keeper."

"I'd like to see you in that dress."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "If I wore a dress to school, Puckerman, you'd throw me in the dumpster for it. Even after you joined the glee club and stopped picking on me quite as much as before."

"Why do you think I asked you to wear it? I haven't proven my place in the social hierarchy of William McKinley High for over a month."

"My God, Puck, where did you learn that word?"

"High?"

"Hierarchy. I thought you had some manner of three-syllable restriction to your vocabulary."

Puck took a long drink before responding, so Kurt took the opportunity to do likewise.

"I'm not an idiot, you know. I just don't like studying." He frowned for a moment. "What if I stopped seeing other girls? Like no sexting or flirting or sex… crap, never mind. Can't do it."

"That's why she hardly talks to you. She knows you can't do it even though that's exactly what she needs you to prove you can."

"I hate you sometimes, Hummel. Wanna make out?"

"No."

"Oh, good. 'Cause I regretted that as soon as I said it." Puck downed the rest of his beer and wandered back to the kitchen.

Kurt waited until Puck returned to say anything more, sipping at his beer even though Puck had told him you only sip wine. This time Puck brought back a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses in addition to his beer.

"Ever done shots before?" Puck set everything carefully on the table before dropping heavily onto the couch.

"Puck, I'd only ever been drunk _once_ before I started spending too much time with you. So, no."

"I get to pop your shot cherry!" Puck pumped his fist in the air.

"You're even hornier than usual tonight, aren't you?"

Puck shrugged and poured the shots.

Kurt snapped his fingers—or tried to but he'd never been able to manage after even half a beer and he was working on his third now. "I know! Your girl name can be Natalie."

"Off topic." He motioned pointedly at the waiting shots. "But tell me why while you still can."

"Ominous. Because it starts with N, and we can shorten it to Nat and pretend you're an annoying insect in need of a good swatting."

"Very funny. If you sip your shot, I'm going to hit you. The point isn't to taste it."

Kurt had practiced arching his eyebrow in the mirror, but for some reason it made him burst into a fit of giggles now. "I won't. You first."

Puck nodded sagely, then threw back his shot and slammed the glass onto the table. "And that's how it's done!" He sounded proud of himself.

"Are your eyes watering?" Kurt leaned forward for a better look.

"It's the good stuff. Go!" He put on a goofy grin as though he thought that would help motivate the smaller boy.

Kurt sighed, mostly for show, as he lifted the small glass. He sniffed it, but decided not to sip when he noticed Puck's glare. After a measured stare at Puck—mostly to annoy him—Kurt mimicked what he'd just watched Puck do and almost choked. He managed to swallow but fell into a fit of coughing. "God, it burns!"

"Chase with your beer, Hummel." Puck handed him the bottle, and Kurt downed it before grabbing Puck's and forcing some of that down his throat too. "Bit much for you?"

"Hell yes. Pour me another."

Puck laughed. "Not tonight, dude."

"Puckerman, if you try to act responsible _now,_ I will be forced to kick your balls through the field goal."

Instead of answering, Puck shrugged and took the whiskey away. "Do you really think Quinn would go out with me if I stopped seeing other girls entirely?"

"I don't know. Your chances with her no matter what you do are better than mine with Finn. Try it and see." Kurt finished Puck's beer—it was the kind that tasted like piss—as he watched the whiskey disappear into the Puckerman's kitchen.

"Is that how you say yes without saying yes?"

"Yes."

"Oh." He walked back into the living room, this time carrying water and coke. "But… it's hard."

"I don't want that shit, Puck. Take it back." Kurt glared at the non-alcoholic beverages now sitting in the coffee table in front of them.

"But it's good for you. Anyway, is a good swatting like a spanking because that's kind of kinky."

Kurt let out an exaggerated sigh. "That was _ages_ ago. And I noticed a while back you aren't gay enough to want me to spank you."

"But Katrina's a girl."

"So it Natalie. Still needs gay."

Puck shook his fist but looked silly instead of threatening. "Damn you, Hummel."

"You know the main reason it would mean something to Quinn is the part where it's hard, right?" Kurt grudgingly grabbed a bottle of water but only stared at it for the moment.

"I feel like there was something wrong with that sentence, but I can't figure out what…"

"You're a master of changing the subject." Kurt opened the water and sniffed it pointedly.

"You are such a brat," Puck said, already tossing aside his second coke. "I gotta piss."

Kurt drank his water while Puck was gone and used the restroom after the jock returned.

"I figured it out!" Puck half-shouted once Kurt sat back down. "You just haven't gotten Finn drunk enough."

"Haven't gotten him drunk at all. And by that argument, I just haven't gotten _you_ drunk enough either." Kurt managed to arch his eyebrow this time, but he lost it at the expression on Puck's face. The jock looked torn between hurt and curiosity, and his eyebrows didn't seem sure where they needed to be to pull that off.

"I don't know, man, I'm pretty damn drunk right now. I had, what, twice as much as you?"

"Sounds right. You keep not letting me have more."

Puck crossed his arms and nodded, eyes shut. "You can't handle more than that yet. I'm bigger and more experienced than you."

Kurt's giggles sent him to the floor this time.

"What?" Puck seemed content to watch Kurt roll around holding his sides.

"That sounds so dirty!"

"Drunk, mom, and pervert."

Kurt pulled himself back onto the couch, not yet sure why falling hadn't really hurt. "And yet nothing compared to you, Puck."

He smirked. "So true. How are you getting home tonight?"

"I'm working on learning to teleport."

"Does that involve a taxi or my couch? 'Cause it wasn't clear."

"Either so long as it isn't my car. Dad would kill me for drinking with you, but he'd skin me alive and give my soul to Rachel Berry as a pet for driving drunk."

Puck winced. "Harsh, man. She wouldn't even let me touch her boob, but I'm pretty sure she did it with that Jesse kid."

Kurt took a moment to summon his deepest sarcasm. "Yes, because that is _exactly_ why I can't stand her."

With a shrug, Puck stood and went, again, to the kitchen. "All beer bottles go into this trash bag." He held up the bag once he returned to Kurt's view. "Then we chuck them in the neighbor's bin and try to fix the state of our breath before my mom gets home. You can have the couch."

Kurt nodded and shoved bottles into the plastic bag as Puck washed the shot glasses. Then he called his dad and got a patronizing lecture about letting people know things beforehand and keeping track of time that wasn't nearly as bad as the one he'd have gotten if he went home.


End file.
